


Pontiac Down

by tikistitch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Catstiel, Fluff, M/M, Pagan Gods, Season 4 AU, kitties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 07:33:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4778873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tikistitch/pseuds/tikistitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season 4 alternate continuity.  After rescuing Dean Winchester from Hell, Castiel finds himself trapped inside the vessel of a little black kitty cat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Light. And heat. And pain. 

So much pain.

A sun gone nuclear hot. Star stuff – spread across the universe like so many tiny diamonds, all hurtling inward.

Hammers, jackhammers, sledge hammers and...

...a bee?

The cat blinked, staring dumbly. The chubby bumblebee stared back with faceted jewel eyes, buzzing curiously.

“All part of God's plan,” the bee mused at last, in the static-y way of insects. It buzzed off to nose around a fragrant daffodil, furry legs flecked with yellow pollen.

A shudder rippled through the cat's body, sending dark fur standing on end. Slowly, painfully, he managed to rise to all fours, feeling weirdly warm and nauseous. Nerve impulses going outward to muscle. Senses receiving, transmitting. 

Assess the situation.

Grass underfoot, and blue sky overhead. 

Was this a park? It was quiet, but for a mild breeze blowing through the trees, and a distant low rumble he couldn't identify.

There were stone obelisks erected at regular points around the area. He made his way towards one. A person's name had been carved into one side, but it was not a name he knew. There was another obelisk beside it, bearing another name. It occurred to him that most cats couldn't read, but he dismissed the thought.

The rumbling had grown louder. The cat cocked his ears for a moment, but still couldn't place the noise. It was akin to the sound of distant thunder, but the day was clear. The sky overhead was blue as a cornflower, dotted with white cotton clouds. Somewhere, birds sang in the trees. Butterflies flitted nearby, and he could sense the humming of angleworms writhing in the ground below his paws. Gardens were sacred places. 

Suddenly, a figure hurtled towards him. “C'mon, Cas! We gotta get outta here,” the other cat urged. It was a small calico, kinked tail, one ear askew, like he'd been in a fight or two. 

The first cat tilted his head curiously as the calico romped off, and then, when he realized Cas wasn't following him, hurried back, crooked tail hiked up. “Cas! Did you hear me? I know you been through a lot today, chum, but you need to move it.”

Instead the first cat – Cas? - stood rooted to the spot. “What is a Cas? Am I a Cas?” The distant rumbling was growing louder, so he attempted to make his thoughts loud, that they would be heard.

The other cat communicated frustration. “Geez, did you get knocked in the head? Yeah, you're Cas, kiddo.”

“And who might you be?” thought Cas, who was watching as a particularly colorful butterfly flitted away.

The rumbling grew louder. And louder still. 

Eyes the color of sunlight through a glass of whiskey scanned around nervously. “Look, this ain't the time for fancy intros. You can call me Buddy.”

“Buddy?”

“Cas, c'mon! Quit fucking around! We gotta go, kid.”

“Go where?”

As if in answer, the rumbling abruptly shot up by several decibels. Cas's ebony-black fur stood on end, and he whirled around to behold a hideous machine come charging around a tall hedge, bringing chaos and destruction as it tore along the grounds. 

“Follow me!” yelled Buddy, who bounded off once again. This time Cas hastened along after him. The two cats rushed across the grass as the horrible machine's long line of circular blades ripped and sliced at the ground, the motor giving off an ungodly rattle and roar, dark smoke and acrid smell hissing from the tailpipe.

Buddy sped towards a massive tree and began scrambling upward the great trunk, swiftly disappearing into the thick foliage overhead. Cas halted at the base, hesitating for an instant. Was it really possible to ascend this great object? But the monster machine roared nearer, and at last he hurled himself up, his claws clinging desperately to the ancient bark. 

He scrambled up to the lowest array of branches, but didn't see Buddy the calico, so he continued upwards. At last, he spied another cat – a tabby – perched out on a stout branch, switching his tail, scowling down at the machine and the man who sat astride it. 

Treading carefully, using his tail for balance, Cas sidled out to nestle down beside the tabby cat. Oddly enough, Cas found he liked this high perch, up high, gazing down on the grounds below – somehow it felt familiar.

The machine rumbled on towards the tree, and for a moment Cas was afraid it would run right into it! But at the last minute, the contraption lurched and clattered away from them, leaving raw furrows in the ground in its wake.

“That is the groundskeeper,” supplied the tabby, his voice prim. “He does not much care for our kind”

“He doesn't?”

“No. The only thing he detests more than cats are the gophers. And who can blame him for that? Loathsome creatures.”

Cas considered this. He wasn't certain whether he knew of any gophers, nor why any would disfavor them.

“Are you new to these grounds, my brother?” the tabby inquired.

“I.... I think so,” Cas told him. 

The tabby's tail switched, a precise little gesture. “You do not know? That is passing strange.”

“I don't remember.” Cas craned his neck, peering up among the branches. “I was with Buddy just now. He appeared to know more about me. Did you see him? He must have passed by.”

The tabby blinked cool amber eyes. “I do not know of any … Buddy. I am Thoth. Is it your intent to remain here?”

This caused Cas to quit scanning the branches for Buddy and stop and think for a bit. Was he planning on staying? In truth, he didn't know where else to go right now. He didn't really remember a whole lot before finding himself on the lawn, staring at a bumble bee. “I suppose I should stay here for now, in this park,” he said, more to himself than to Thoth.

“'Tis not a park. And if you would stay, you must first meet the Queen. Darkness approaches. Come.” And with that Thoth slipped off the branch and climbed down the tree. Cas glanced around once more, searching around for any sign of Buddy, but then at last decided to follow Thoth. The rumbling sound had at last retreated into the distance. Cas hoped that the terrible machine was now very far away.

Thoth awaited on the ground beneath the tree, and together the two made their way down a well-tended dirt pathway towards a clearing, where stood a small house. Beyond the house was a fence, and there was a gateway nearby, leading to a small parking lot. 

Some green trash bins were pushed up in back of the house, and a group of cats gathered around. There were also a couple of large raccoons stationed on either side of the bins. There was a small part of Cas that recoiled from the raccoons, in fear of them, but he stared at them curiously as Thoth went over to converse with them. 

A large pure white cat leapt gracefully to the top of one of the bins and sat down, curled in on herself, switching her tail and observing her court below. She seemed a fraction too large and lanky to be a cat, and had arresting almond-shaped eyes. “Are all assembled?” she inquired, her thoughts registering in low and mellifluous tones. 

“Yes, your Majesty!” came several enthusiastic replies. 

“Who do we serve?” she asked.

“We serve the goddess Nephthys,” came a chorus.

“What is our charge?” she asked.

“We guard the gates.” And then, as the shadows lengthened, the assembled launched into a chant. 

Ascend and descend.  
Descend with Nephthys.  
Sink into the darkness with the night-bark.  
Ascend and descend...

Cas found that the Queen was staring straight at him with those arresting eyes. He felt himself floating, mind and heart. He found he was no longer in the garden, but rather somewhere in an underground palace, long, long ago. The air smelled of strong, spicy incense. Ibises walked the floor, white wings and long legs. 

A winged woman sitting on a jeweled throne stared at him. He approached her, walking on two legs, in the form of a man. But he was not a man.

And she was not a woman.

There was a rumble. The ibises scattered. 

Cas blinked, returned to the garden. In the distance, there was the sound of a vehicle arriving in the parking lot beyond the wall, tires rattling, engine purring.

“Now we feast,” said the Queen. At that, the raccoons gave a shove to the trash bin beside her, knocking it over. The cover popped off as the bin toppled over, and garbage bags bulged out. With a few slashes they were burst open, and a bounty of table scraps spilled the ground. The cats gathered around, pulling morsels from the pile.

Thoth the tabby cat was beside Cas once again. “Will you eat, brother?” he asked Cas.

But Cas suddenly felt a different kind of hunger, drawn, as a moth to a flame, towards what was happening out in the parking lot. Forsaking the scraps of chicken and tuna spread on the groundskeeper's back yard, he approached the wall and leapt up to the top. A sleek, black car was now parked in the lot outside. Two men – one tall, the other taller – had just emerged from the front of the little house. They walked back towards the car.

Cas stared. He knew one of the men! Or rather, he knew his soul, for it was burning bright, even in the form of a man.

But how? And where? Had it been in that ancient city in his vision, with the winged woman?

Curious to see what had gone on, Cas leapt from the fence and trotted around the side of the house, leaping up to a windowsill to peer inside. The groundskeeper was in his living room, holding a bottle full of an honey-colored liquid and a stack of much-thumbed magazines in his brawny hands. He sat down on a worn upholstered chair, opened the bottle, and poured the liquid into a small, squat glass. After drinking deep and refilling the glass, he grabbed one of the magazines off the stack and began to flip through it. Cas craned his neck to peer at the pages. They were images of human women who appeared to be grimacing in pain, as all of them were standing at strange angles. All had rather larger than normal mammary glands – perhaps that was the reason they were so uncomfortable and forced to sit and stand in strange positions?

The groundskeeper's hand drifted down towards his pants. He dug underneath a prominent pot belly towards his waistband and unhooked his belt. Slowly, he undid the zipper on his fly.

Cas decided that he'd seen enough and hopped off the sill. He glimpsed the two men out in the parking lot, closing the car's trunk. Hoisting shovels over their shoulders, they began walking through the gate into the park, and then down the pathway. Cas followed after them. They were speaking softly with one another, but he couldn't quite catch the conversation, as the wind carried it away. They walked further into the park, along a winding path, through many rows of the odd stone monoliths.

“Help!”

It was a soft, high sound, barely drifting by on the shifting breeze, but it was clear as a bell to Cas. He watched the men, now disappearing as they walked behind a hedgerow. 

“Help!” came the cry again, more desperate now. “Please help!”

With a last glance at the retreating backs of the men, Cas ran towards the cry, hastening past many stone markers, and around some bushes, to the back of a great tree. He came upon a round, furry creature about his own size standing amid the roots. There was also a smaller one who had apparently got his head stuck fast inside a jar.

“Are you all right?” asked Cas.

The larger creature turned nearsighted eyes towards him. “Can you help us, Master Cat? My son Bertram was trying to lick the peanut butter out of the jar and has gotten stuck fast!”

Young Bertram bonked his glass-covered head on a tree trunk and fell over. From overhead, up in the tree, Cas heard a sigh of disgust. 

He looked upwards. Thoth was perched in the tree up overhead, shaking his head and switching his tail. “He is a fool, Cas.”

“He requires help,” said Cas. “Can you help us?”

“Cats do not mix with gophers,” Thoth told him. “We are servants of the Queen.”

“But he's in trouble!” The little gopher had righted itself, and now bonked into Cas, nearly knocking him over.

“Hmpf,” sniffed Thoth. 

“Can you help?” asked Cas. “I'm not sure what to do. Maybe the raccoons-”

“If you assist him, it will be your undoing!” And then he rose and disappeared into the tree's lush foliage.

“Can you help us, Sir Cat?” asked the father gopher. “Alas my claws are too weak.”

“Let me give it a try,” Cas told him, putting a paw on Bertram, who was still lurching around. Cas took a deep breath, and then clamped his jaws around the little gopher's furry neck. Bertram squealed inside the jar, and his father gasped. Then Cas wedged his back feet against the rim of the jar and pushed with all his strength. He gritted his teeth, and, as Bertram wailed, felt the jar began to nudge.

Pop!

Suddenly the jar slipped off, sending both the baby gopher and Cas rolling together on the ground.

The little gopher blinked in surprise, and his father rushed over to him. “Bertram! Bertram, you're all right! Bertram, my son!” 

Cas too got to his cat feet and attempted to shake off the dirt and small twigs that had gotten stuck in his fur.

“Sir Cat, we are grateful,” said the father, who now bowed before Cas. He pushed a paw on his son's head, and the small gopher bowed as well. 

“Oh, uh, it's nothing. Really. And my name is Cas, not Sir Cat.”

“I am Mortimer. You carry the gratitude of my people, the gophers. If ever you need a hole dug, or a burrow fashioned, do not hesitate to contact us, Sir Cas.”

“Um, you're welcome, Mortimer,” said Cas, who decided not to further correct the creatures. He nodded, and then took off towards where he'd last seen the men from the black car.

He found them not far from where he had last seen them, in a part of the grounds where the monument stones showed a great amount of wear. 

Cas felt his skin prickle. A graveyard! He was in a graveyard – the realization overwhelmed and terrified him for some reason. Why hadn't he known this? And why had he come here? He thought of going in search of Buddy, but then the men spoke.

“We need to hurry, Dean,” the taller man was saying. He was holding a very old book with fragile, browned pages.

From down in a hole, Dean paused, leaning on his shovel. “Sammy, we gave him a fifth of good whiskey and enough porn for a month. That groundskeeper ain't goin' anywhere tonight.”

Cas crept nearer. He hopped up onto one of the gravestones to eavesdrop. Dean. He knew this man. Where did he know him? Why did he not remember?

“We need to get back,” Sam muttered in his man voice. “You heard her – that entity tends to strike at night.”

“You mean the cute blonde?” laughed Dean. His laugh was warm and genuine.

“I didn't notice if she was cute,” Sam muttered into the book. 

“You totally noticed she was cute.”

“Dean, we need to get this done.”

“You wanna take a shift, loverboy?” asked Dean. But just then, his shovel came down on something hard. “Yahtzee!” he cried.

Sam set the book aside and, grabbing a crowbar, jumped down into the hole Dean had dug. Cas hopped down to the ground to get a closer look, but suddenly stopped. His fur stood on end. He realized with a start he was now walking directly over a grave.

The grave of a very dangerous entity.

Cas stood, silent and afraid, his mind whirling, heart beating. Sam climbed out of the grave they had been digging and retrieved a bag of salt. Salt. The men had salt, and lighter fluid - the makings of a fire. The men were purifying a body.

The men were purifying the wrong body.

Dean climbed out of the grave, wiping an arm across his muddy forehead. Cas leapt to his shoulder. The wrong grave, he told Dean, thinking as hard as he could. You have exhumed the wrong grave!

Dean turned his head and glanced at Cas, smile lining his features. “Well, hey there!” he said with a grin. “Hey, Sammy, look! I got a friend!”

“Thought you were allergic,” grunted Sam, pouring salt into the grave.

Wrong grave! Cas thought, concentrating with all his might. 

In response, Dean grinned and scratched him on the head. 

Desperately, Cas redoubled his efforts. He poked his nose directly into Dean's ear and shouted, That is the wrong body!

Dean grabbed Cas by the neck. “Hey, buddy, not on first date!” he laughed, gently tossing Cas to the ground as Sam squirted lighter fluid into the grave.

Cas stood staring, greatly vexed. These impudent humans – why wouldn't they listen?

Thoth loped into view. “Castiel! It is time!” he exclaimed, and then bounded away.

Cas spared one last terribly annoyed glance at the idiotic humans, and then followed Thoth to wherever he was going. It definitely couldn't be more frustrating. “Humans!” he exclaimed to Thoth. “Why don't they listen?”

“They never listen to cats,” sighed Thoth. “Not after that incident with Lady Bast. You don't want to get on her bad side.”

“Lady Bast?” asked Cas. The cats wound around a hedge to the back part of the cemetery, which was illuminated by the last rays of the setting sun. There were more elaborate grave sites here – above-ground tombs wrought from carved marble, some quite intricate. 

A few of the cats Cas had seen gathered around earlier in the groundskeeper's back yard were now clustered around one of the sites. The memorial was a detailed rendition of a weeping woman who had thrown herself across the tomb in her grief. “This is a bad one,” Thoth whispered. “He is restless tonight. Be aware!”

Cas was going to ask what was going on, but it soon became clear. The air crackled, and with a faint whiff of ozone, the spirit of a man appeared, standing about halfway out of the carved marble, as if he was wading in his tomb. Cas's fur stood up, and several of the cats who were nearby hissed in warning.

The ghost struck out at the nearest cat, knocking it away with a yowl. The other cats rushed near as the spirit strode out of the tomb, his eyes wild. “Where is Caroline?” he demanded. “I want Caroline.”

Some of the cats hissed and spat at him, but he kicked one aside and, with a brush of his hand, tossed away another. “Caroline!” he called. “Caroline!”

“Where is Caroline?” Cas asked Thoth.

“He murdered her,” was the answer. A chill ran down Cas's spine. Thoth charged forward, and the ghost seized him. He held Thoth up, shaking him. “Caroline! Give me Caroline!” Thoth gagged.

The ghost began to walk further, but Cas stepped into his path. “Put him down,” he said quietly.

“Caroline!” The ghost had Thoth by the throat, and the old cat choked.

“Let's go,” urged one of the other cats. “Brother, we must flee! He's gotten too strong.”

Cas stayed rooted to the spot. In a voice low and dangerous, he said, “Put him down. Now.”

“Get out of my way.”

The ghost stepped forward.

Cas opened his mouth.

And then he roared.

And he was not Cas. He was something of stars and light. He was large. And winged. And ancient.

The ghost halted. It dropped Thoth, who rolled, spitting, on the ground. 

“Go,” whispered Cas, and his whisper was louder and larger and more glorious than an earthquake. 

The tomb split, cracked right through the middle, the sculpture of the weeping woman toppled over, her face now towards the sky.

The ghost roiled and sizzled, and was gone. 

And Cas was … he was just Cas once again. Just a cat. He shook his head, slightly dazed. 

Thoth hobbled up to him. “I thank you, brother.”

“What just happened?” asked Cas.

The other cats glanced at each other nervously. “I believe.... I think we should get you to the Queen,” Thoth proposed. 

“I need to check on Dean and Sam!” Cas announced, as he suddenly recollected the men digging up the wrong grave. “I need to make sure they're still all right.” And then before anyone else could get a word in, he darted off towards where he'd left the men. He ran across the trimmed lawn, over grave markers and around lush bushes and broad old trees, but pulled up short at the gravesite.

It was empty. There was a charred hole in the ground, and nothing else. 

The men were gone.

“Damn!” muttered Cas. He paced back and forth, checking the grave, and then looked around when he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. 

Buddy! It was Buddy, the little calico who had saved him from the giant machine.

Buddy was perched on top of a grave marker, and appeared to be deep in conversation with a bewitching, brown-skinned woman. 

Wait, was she actually listening to him? Cas considered this. But didn't Thoth just tell him humans didn't listen to cats?

“Buddy!” Cas called. 

To his surprise, the woman turned her head. She smiled, amused, and waved at Cas.

“Cas!”

Cas turned around – Thoth had just come running up behind him. “Thoth, it's Buddy!” he said. “I found him.”

“Where?”

Cas turned back – but now Buddy and the woman had vanished. “They- They were just there!” He turned back to Thoth. “Didn't you see them?”

Thoth tilted his head in confusion. “Who was just there?”

“Buddy! The cat I told you about. He was talking to a woman.”

Thoth sniffed and arched his back. “Cats do not converse with humans. As I have told you.”

“But-”

“You have experienced a traumatic event, Cas. You shall accompany me now. We would speak with the Queen. She will know what to do.”

Cas was frustrated and confused, but wasn't certain what else to do. So he decided to accompany Thoth. Perhaps the Queen would have some answers for him? Thoth was right, it had been a full day, and perhaps he was getting confused?

To Cas's surprise, Thoth led him not towards the small house where the Queen had held court, but rather towards a rather disused looking crypt. The two cats slipped inside through a door that had been left ajar on rusting hinges. Thoth then stood silent inside the high-ceilinged hallway. 

“We cannot speak to humans, then?” Cas asked Thoth.

“We can speak to humans.”

“But you just said-”

“We may speak. But they will not listen,” sniffed Thoth. “It was the will of Lady Bast.”

“We are in service to Lady Bast?”

“We are in service to Lady Nephthys of the Ennead of the Heliopolis, Excellent Goddess, Lord of the Underworld.”

“That is quite a mouthful.”

Thoth's fur ruffled. “Are you disrespecting Our Lady?”

“Why should I respect her?” Cas inquired.

“Why indeed?” came a familiar, mellifluous voice. Cas hadn't heard the Queen approaching them. She sidled up, sizing up Cas with those arresting eyes. 

“My Lady,” said Thoth, bowing to her.

“Leave us,” the Queen bid him. He hesitated, but bowed his head once again and, with a glare at Cas, took his leave. She stared at Cas for a while. He remained still. He wondered if he would once again see a vision of the throne room with the winged lady, but instead he remained standing just where he was.

Finally, she said, “What are you?”

“A cat,” he answered, too quickly. “Um, I believe.”

She stared longer. “You are a cat,” she said, “but not a cat.”

“Does everyone in this place speak in riddles?” said Cas, the annoyance creeping into his voice.

“Where did you come from? Thoth tells me you do not remember.”

“I don't remember. Buddy seemed to know.”

She blinked. “Buddy. I do not have a servant of that name.”

“I just saw him. He was talking to a woman.”

“Cats do not speak to humans.”

Cas huffed in annoyance. “Well, since I'm not a cat, maybe Buddy isn't either.”

He expected her to contradict him, but instead she said, “That is possible.” Cas was going to reply, but noticed that the raccoons had come into the crypt, carrying some strange objects in their deft hands. “I would like to try something,” she said. “Perhaps we will be able to determine something about your past.”

The raccoons set out the objects. There was an old pocket watch that tick-tick-ticked when a raccoon wound it up. And then there was a large glass object that resembled a very big light bulb on a stand. A raccoon fiddled with the switch in the back, and the object lit up, with small streaks of static electricity inside. Cas stared at it – it was fascinating. 

“Yes, good,” said the Queen. “Stare inside, and harken to my voice. What do you see?” The raccoons shunted aside, and Cas sat down in front of the lights, watching them fizzle, listening to the steady tick-tick-tick of the pocket watch. It seemed there was something inside the lights. He leaned forward, towards the lights. 

She was inside, sitting on her throne.

Her wings gave an annoyed flap. “You must be desperate to come to me, Castiel.”

He approached, striding towards her on two legs. “My father – his wrath is great this time.”

“Mm-hm. He has his moods.” She shifted on the throne, curling up a bare, brown leg.

“You do not seem concerned.”

“Bah.” She waved a hand. “The One God is a passing fad.” 

Cas – Castiel – arched up his wings. 

“You don't believe me, Castiel. Your Father is like Ptah and his ilk. He will away, in his time, and we will return.”

“I am not so certain.”

She stood, giving a lazy flap of her glorious hawk wings. “What do you wish?”

“As I have said, Lady, He wishes to take every firstborn child.”

She huffed. “And you think to dissuade him? Or you have given up, and that is why you come, entreating me?”

Castiel's own wings drooped in frustration. They were lush and black-feathered. “I would protect them. Do you have a way? They are your people. Your children.”

“They were my children. Before this idiot craze for the One God.”

He walked towards her, going down on one knee. “Please. I beseech you.”

“Castiel, don't be dramatic.” She sighed. “All right, all right. There is a blood sigil I know. If you paint it on the doorway, it may deter the angel of death.”

“Thank you, Lady.”

She grabbed his hands. “And please get up off my floor, and cease groveling.”

“You have my gratitude,” he told her as he rose. 

She was near him now, looking up, a strange light in her eyes. A slim, brown hand touched his face. “How can I refuse you, when you wear this countenance?”

“I don't understand.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, of course not.” Now both cool hands were on his face, gently tilting his head forward. She placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “Go safely, Castiel. My dear one.”

Castiel.

Time shifted. 

Cas found himself outside a house, his fingers red with blood. He was painting a blood sigil on a door. He felt nervous, looking over his shoulder. It wouldn't be long until they caught up with him. But before that, he would do what he could.

“Thank you,” came a quiet voice.

Cas turned. A woman – a girl, really, stood cradling a baby.

“I know what will happen. They say... They say the first borns. He is all that I have. Thank you.”

Cas paused. The child in her arms was so tiny, and yet so perfect. 

She came forward, holding out the baby, pushing him gently into Cas's arms. He stiffened, afraid. The infant was so small, so fragile. As gently as he could, he took the child into his arms. The baby smelled wonderful. He blinked, small, knowing eyes. His Father's work, every molecule perfection!

Cas sensed something. Quickly and carefully, he handed the infant back to the girl. “Hurry! Get inside. Don't come out!” She nodded, and slipped inside the small dwelling, closing the marked door behind her.

He heard the rustle of wings behind him.

And then....

He was back inside the crypt. 

Somewhere outside, tire treads rumbled over gravel. 

“Cas,” said the Queen. 

“Dean!” Cas exclaimed. “I must go help!” And then he was off, rushing out of the crypt, across the grounds, towards the gravesite where the two men had been digging. Dean was in danger. Cas must protect him. 

He came upon Dean walking alone, toting a shovel over his shoulder and carrying a large sports bag. He was bloodied, and walked with a limp. Cas ran to catch up with him. Dean was speaking at at a rapid clip into the cell phone at his shoulder.

“I tell ya, Sammy, stay there! You heard the hot ER doctor, you got a concussion. I don't want you falling over or some dumb shit.... You did too notice she's hot! You stay the hell in bed, and we'll try to figure this out. My plan? Yeah, I got a plan. That was the wrong guy, so we'll go through the other guys until we find the right guy. That's the plan!”

Dean had arrived at the grave site from earlier in the day, and ceased speaking for a while. He dropped the shovel to the ground and looked around. His expression lacked the confidence he was trying to project with his voice. He looked towards the right grave. Cas hopped up on the gravestone. “Oh, hey, pal. You again!” said Dean with a small smile. “I'm talking to a cat!” he told the phone, and then, to Cas's utter annoyance, he turned around so his back was facing the correct grave. “I'll find it. I'll find the right one. I told you I would!”

“This is the gravesite,” Cas thought. And then he gritted his teeth and leapt.

“Ow!” yelped Dean as Cas bit his ear. He dropped the cell phone, and Cas leapt off Dean's shoulder and onto the grave. “What the hell, kitty cat?”

When he was certain Dean was looking his way, Cas jumped onto the correct grave and began to dig, ripping at the ground with his paws.

“Are you insane or something? Or....” Dean trailed off. He squatted down next to Cas, who looked up in frustration. “Or am I insane. You want me to dig here, kitty cat?”

“Yes!” Cas thought, emphasizing it with a yowl and another flurry of digging.

Dean grabbed his cell phone from the ground. “Sammy. This is important. No, nothing happened! I'm fine. But I need you to tell me everything – everything – you know about cats.” He stared at Cas and listened and nodded for a moment. “Guardians of the dead? OK, this is gonna seem insane, but I know where our guy is. What? A cat told me.” Dean pocketed the phone and grabbed his shovel. “All right, chum, we're digging here.” He spaded the ground. “And next time, be careful with the ear, OK? I been told it's one of my best features!” Cas hopped up on the gravestone as Dean began to excavate the grave. 

“Cas! Castiel!” Thoth came running towards him.

“I don't have time for the Queen right now,” Cas told him.

“Help us!” cried Thoth, who was suddenly dwarfed by the angry spirit flying after him. Acting on instinct, Cas pounced, snarling at the spirit. It hovered, but another ghost then swept in from the side. 

“Get down!” yelled Dean. Cas dropped to the ground as a shot burst out. Dean cocked his shotgun and fired again. “Salt rounds,” he told Cas. “It'll hold them off, but not for long. And I'm talking to a cat. God dammit!” Swearing, he put down the gun and took up the shovel again.

“We need to dig faster,” Cas told Thoth. “That body needs to be purified!”

“We haven't the right claws,” said Thoth.

“But I know who does.” Cas leapt to the top of a grave marker and howled, “Gophers! I call upon you. Gophers!”

“Oh, Lord no,” sighed Thoth. He leapt aside, howling in shock as a hole opened up right underneath him. It was Mortimer the gopher, poking his head out.

“What do you will, Sir Cas?” he asked, popping out of the hole, Bertram right behind him.

“I need you to dig,” Cas told him. 

“Bertram, you get of there,” Mortimer scolded as his son poked his nose into a candy wrapper. “Your sweet tooth will be the end of you.” He turned to Cas. “What would you have us dig, Sir Cas?”

“We need to dig up that grave!” Cas said, pointing to where Dean was digging.

“It is done.” Mortimer gave a whistle, and suddenly, several little holes opened up in the grounds nearby, and a number of gophers poked out their heads.

“What's up, boss?” asked one of the gophers.

“Jesus, what is this?” asked Dean, who had stopped digging to watch. “Whack-a-mole?”

“Excavate that grave, boys, and be quick about it!” ordered Mortimer.

“Aye-aye!” said the gopher, who actually saluted. He disappeared into the ground. After a beat, the ground around the gravesite where Dean was standing began to roil and collapse.

Dean stepped back, and Cas leapt onto his shoulder. “The gophers? This is some Wind in the Willows shit right here,” he told Cas, who watched nervously as the area around the grave collapsed inwards. Several gophers scrambled out of the crater. 

“Awesome!” Grabbing the crow bar, Dean stepped down on top of the coffin and began to pry the lid off. “I don't believe any of this, but I'm goin' with it,” he told Cas. Cas leapt off Dean's shoulders just in time to intercept yet another hostile spirit. It tried to push him away, but he howled and charged right into it. It fizzled and dissipated, but it left him feeling light-headed.

“Salt!” yelled Dean as he climbed out of the grave. “We gotta- Oh, uh, thank you.” He watched in disbelief as a pair of raccoons hauled a bag of rock salt over to the grave and began to pour it over the body. “I don't know how the hell I'm gonna tell this to Sam. All right now, let's- Wait!” He jumped back into the grave, and emerged holding a small gopher. “You gotta get outta there, little dude,” he told Bertram.

“Bertram, what have I told you?” his father tutted as Dean soaked the body with a bottle of lighter fluid. 

“You guys need to clear out now!” Dean told the assembled crowd. “It's gonna get hot!” He struck a match and tossed it into the grave.

Cas's fur stood on end: he heard a very familiar rumbling sound.

The other animals scattered. Cas looked around to see the goundskeeper heading their way, driving that terrible machine. 

“Ah, man! Don't do that! I gave you porn!” Dean protested. The machine thundered across the grounds and swept towards the grave, threatening to fill in the dirt and dampen the fire that was consuming the body. 

Steeling his nerves, Cas growled and leapt onto the charging monstrosity. He scrambled up onto the groundskeeper's shoulders, preparing to bite.

The groundskeeper looked at him.

Cas paused, a paw raised to strike.

The keeper's eyes were jet black.

Crying out, Cas was knocked off, falling to the ground. Just then, one of the machine's wheels hit a gopher hole. The wheel lost traction, and the mower leaned and then finally tipped over, falling on top of the groundskeeper. 

Dean ran over and scooped up Cas. “You OK, buddy? You shouldn't take risks like that, you know!”

“Demon,” Cas thought, though he knew it would make no difference. “He's a demon!”

“What?” asked Dean.

“Demon.” Cas wriggled out of Dean's arms and stood up on his shoulder. “Demon!” his mind screamed.

“Demon?” Dean whispered. “Where?”

And then Dean lurched as the groundskeeper, hobbling on a badly broken leg, whacked Dean with a shovel.

“Demon! There!” yelled Dean as Cas sighed. Dean barely rolled out of the way as the groundskeeper struck again, and then managed to get his hands on the shovel and whack the possessed man in the head.

His cell phone rang. “Not now, Sammy!” Dean said into the phone as the groundskeeper got to his feet. The groundskeeper threw a punch, and Dean blocked it, elbowing the guy in the ribs. “I'm fightin' a demon, Sammy. A demon!”

The demon lunged at Dean, who side stepped and, grabbing the shovel, managed to whack the guy in the head. “Yeah, I was fighting ghosts. That was 20 minutes ago, where have you been? Yeah, there were ghosts. And then there were cats, and groundhogs, and raccoons. We're expecting a sloth or something next!”

The groundskeeper got to his feet again, and Cas jumped on his shoulders. He placed his paws on the man's head and concentrated. A demon! Cas would smite him. He put all his effort into the magic, but something was wrong. The demon smacked him, and he went flying, crashing into a headstone. 

“Dammit, that's my cat!” Dean hollered. He charged the demon, but it began to pummel him, and Dean dropped the cell phone once again. Cas tried to run towards Dean, but found he couldn't get up. He collapsed, back in a pool of something sticky. Blood, he realized.

“Dean? Dean?” came a desperate voice over the phone, which had somehow gotten turned to speaker mode. And then, “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio...”

The groundskeeper abruptly ceased pummeling Dean. He stood up, his eyes wide, and then threw back his head. As the exorcism chant continued, black smoke began to pour from his mouth. It roiled up overhead, and then dissipated as the groundskeeper collapsed to the ground.

Dean picked himself up and grabbed the cell. “Thanks, Sammy! That was awesome.” He hurried over to Cas, picking him up and cradling him next to his body. “Hey, how you doing, chum? You look worse for the wear, huh. Me too, I guess.”

Cas meowed weakly.

And then his world went black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really supposed to be editing my DCBB this weekend, but this story wanted out, so I had to let it. Stories are like that some time.

“Of course I can have him in here, Sammy! The hot ER doc sewed him up for me.”

“Dean, it's not sanitary!”

Cas awoke, feeling safe and warm, a lulling rhythm pulsing slowly and steadily in his ears. He peered around. He was being carried in Dean's jacket, cradled next to the man's heart. He felt a little woozy, and a little sore, but somehow, content as a cat might be.

“Hey, Patch! You're up and around!” said Dean, gently petting Cas's head.

“Oh god, Dean. You named him?”

Dean and Cas were staring into each other's eyes. “Well, he's got this little patch right here on his head. It's pretty cute! Of course, I could call him Blue, for his eyes.” Flattered, Cas batted his lashes at his savior.

“Dean! You said we'd drop him at a shelter.” Cas's gaze drifted over to the other man, Sam, who was now sitting on a bed, tying his shoes.

“We gotta keep him around 'til he's on his feet. Or on his paws, or whatever. He saved my life!”

“Him and the rest of Watership Down?”

“No bunnies. Though that would have been cool. Or maybe crocodiles!”

“Crocodiles? In Illinois?”

“Or sharks! You ready, Sammy? Let's go get us some breakfast.”

Sam nodded and rubbed the bandage on his head. They began to walk out the door but were confronted by a woman dressed in scrubs. “You know I told you you shouldn't be checking yourself out, Winchester,” she said, arching an eyebrow at Sam.

“Aw, ignore her, Sam, she just wants to see my gorgeous face around here again,” said Dean with a wide grin.

The doctor rolled her eyes and then stared at Dean's jacket. “Hey, Patch! You're awake.” She gently petted his head, and Cas found himself making a small rumbling noise. “Aw, what a cutie pie. You guys are welcome to bring him back when you need the stitches out.”

“I don't think we're gonna be around-” Sam began.

“Of course we'll come back here!” Dean declared. “Can't take my best friend to a stranger, eh, Patch? Hey, I got an idea! Maybe you can give Sam your phone number.” Now it was Sam's turn to roll his eyes. The doctor gave Dean a skeptical look, but then she took a card out of her pocket, scribbled a number on the back, and handed it to Sam. “My personal cell,” she told him. “Bye, cutie!” she told the cat, booping her finger on his little nose.

“Bye yourself!” Dean laughed, and the two men walked down the hall, Dean stilly carrying Cas in his jacket. A hospital. This was a hospital. Cas decided he didn't much like it – it smelled funny, and there were a lot of bright lights and clanging noises. He was grateful when they went through some automatic doors and emerged out into the parking lot. 

“Dean, can I get a look at Patch?” asked Sam.

“You wanna ask your girlfriend to give him more stitches?”

“Cut it out, Dean. I want to see that patch on his head.” 

Dean carefully handed Cas over to Sam and then rummaged in a pocket for his car keys. Sam held Cas gently in his large hands, and looked him over with wide, intelligent eyes. “I mean, given all the weird stuff that happened last night? I wonder if something's up with him. Doesn't this look like a sigil to you?” he asked, one finger on Cas's forehead.

“Looks like fur to me,” said Dean, who opened the black car's trunk.

“It looks … Enochian,” said Sam. 

Cas suddenly perked up. The word sounded familiar. “Enochian?” he asked, although the men couldn't hear his thoughts. Men, as it turned out, were somewhat stupid.

“Wait, does he know what that means?” asked Sam. “Dean, I think this cat knows what we're saying.”

“Aw, he's probably just hungry acting like that because he's hungry. Let's get him some grub!” Dean opened the back door and spread a blanket from the trunk across the back seat. Then he took Cas and carefully set him on the blanket, tucking him in as Sam smiled and rolled his eyes.

Cas dozed for a while, and then felt himself once again tucked into Dean's jacket, and transported into a place that – in contrast to the hospital – smelled utterly heavenly. Sam muttered something about not taking a cat into a diner, but Dean blithely ignored him. They sat down across from each other on upholstered seats next by a small table. A woman came over and handed them placards with pictures of food. All of it looked quite delicious. Cas swatted a paw at a particularly juicy-looking picture of a hamburger, but he realized it was only photos. 

“You wanna burger, buddy?” asked Dean. “Ha, cat after my own heart!”

“I thought we were having breakfast,” said Sam, who had set down his menu and was fiddling with a laptop computer. 

“Nothing's too good for Patch.” A lovely dark-skinned woman holding a pad of paper came by, and Dean ticked off several menu items he wanted to order. She smiled fondly at Cas, and then, tucking her pad of paper under her arm, scratched his head while she touched Dean lightly on the shoulder. 

Cas blinked. Her touch made him feel a bit woozy. “Dean, are you OK?” Sam was asking. Cas looked over to the waitress, who winked at him. She looked awfully familiar. Hadn't he seen her before?

“I'm fine,” said Dean, though his eyes looked a little bleary. “What are you nerding out over, anyway?” 

“While I was waiting at the hospital, I patched into all of the local security cameras I could find. I'm going through the videos to see if I pick up any demon activity.”

“Checking if Lawnmower Man had any buddies? Good idea.” Dean stirred his coffee. It smelled enticing. Cas wriggled out and gave it a sniff, but Dean brushed him away. “Hey, you're not old enough for that yet!” he laughed, setting Cas back down on the seat. The food began to arrive. Cas was a little confused by the blueberry waffles, but he liked the whipped cream. And the burger was utterly delicious. Despite Sam's entreaties that he was going to spoil his new pet, Dean broke off many morsels and handed them over to Cas. “Ya know, Sammy, we might think of handing Patch off to Bobby for safekeeping.”

Sam was still hunched over his computer. “Dean, Bobby is a dog person.”

“Patch is better than a dog! He likes burgers! I bet he'd like beer too.”

“Yahtzee!” said Sam.

“What?”

Sam grinned and flipped around the laptop screen so Dean could see. Cas belched, and then scrambled up on the table to get a better look. What he saw made his fur stand on end. Sam hit a key to enlarge the photo – it showed a man walking down the street and then entering a shop. For a moment, he glanced towards the camera.

His eyes were pure black.

Cas growled.

“Yeah, demons – they're assholes!” said Dean, absently petting Cas. “Where is that?”

“It's a taco stand. It's actually not too far from here.”

“Tacos? They can't do that with tacos. Fucking demons,” grumbled Dean. He grabbed Cas and tucked him back into his jacket. “You ready, chum? We're gonna go gank some demons.”

Cas assented, though to be honest, he could have done with a catnap – his tummy was feeling a bit full. He dozed again, lulled to sleep by the lub-dub, lub-dub of Dean's steady heartbeat. 

After a short ride, they arrived at the little restaurant, situated on a side street of a cosy neighborhood. Cas watched blearily from inside Dean's jacket as the two men approached the front door. They looked around, then, nodding to each other, entered. 

It was cramped but clean inside. There was no one behind the counter. A menu board above the counter, which was all written in Spanish, listed different kinds of tacos and burritos. “Mm, I wouldn't mind a carnita,” mused Dean.

“You just ate,” Sam scolded.

“Sammy, it's never the wrong time for a taco.” A door opened from the back room, and Cas's fur started to stand on end again. A blond man ambled up behind the counter. “Yeah. May I help you?” he asked.

“Huh,” said Dean. “You ain't the kind of fellow we'd expect to see workin' a taco joint.”

“So?” said the guy.

“You get lost on the way to beach blanked bingo or something?”

“You want food or not?” grumbled the clerk. He pointed towards Cas. “Hey, you can't have a cat in here.”

Cas narrowed his cat eyes. Dean stood up straighter. “Yeah I can. I do right now.”

“Get it out!”

Then the guy made a fatally dumb move – he reached for Cas. Cas leapt out of Dean's jacket and chomped on the guy's hand. The guy screamed, and his eyes went black. An instant later, he was on the floor, Sam with a knee to his chest, holding the demon knife at his neck. 

“Don't fuck with my cat,” Dean growled at him.

“Screw you!” the demon growled back.

“What the hell is going on here?” Sam demanded. 

“Hell is going on here,” laughed the demon, and Cas hissed at him. 

The front door opened and the little bell jingled. Dean jumped up to grab the man who had just come in, and this provided a moment of distraction for the demon, who kicked Sam and then began to smoke out of his vessel.

Cas yowled, and then leapt off of the counter, attacking the dark, acrid smoke that issued from the guy's mouth. He slashed at it with his paws, and the smoke glinted and turned to ash. Yowling and snapping and clawing, he somehow managed to get it all, every single bit, and stood at last growling and victorious, in a pile of ash.

“Damn, kitty cat!” said Dean, who whistled. “Maybe we should rename you, Demon Slayer!”

Sam crouched by the blond guy, who was now lying on the floor. Sam held two fingers to his neck. “He's got a pulse. He's still alive,” he said.

“What's goin' on here?” Dean demanded of the new guy, who he was holding in a headlock.

The guy began to talk rapidly in Spanish. 

“What?”

Sam waved a hand at the guy. _“Mas despacio, por favor?”_

The guy took a breath, which was not easy with Dean's arm around his neck. He began to speak again, and Sam translated. “His name is Oscar Mejia. He says he's the owner here. He says some men came into the shop. Several of them. Bad men.”

“And he didn't call the cops?” asked Dean.

Sam listened. “Some of Mr. Mejia's workers – I guess they're not exactly legal. He was scared to call the cops.”

“Ah, so they knew they could run roughshod over this guy. And his tacos.” Dean seemed especially peeved about the disrespect to Mexican food. “So this dude ain't a demon too?”

Sam relayed this. “No, he claims he's not one of them.”

Dean glared suspiciously at Mr. Mejia. “Let's ask the cat!” he decided. He released the shop owner from his hold and grabbed Cas. “What do you think, Patch?”

Cas tilted his head at the man, and began to purr. _“El gato negro,”_ said Mr. Mejia with a smile. He scritched Cas's head affectionately.

Sam spoke to Mr. Mejia again. “He says he thinks they were looking for a guy.”

“Got a name?” asked Dean.

“Jimmy Novak,” said Mr. Mejia.

Cas perked up. 

“Ugh!” said the erstwhile demon vessel, who was still lying down on the floor. 

Sam went over to him again. “Hey dude, you doing OK?”

“Pudding!” exclaimed the man, who looked around, obviously confused. “Pudding? Pudding!”

“Did the demon scramble his brain?” asked Dean.

Mr. Mejia spoke again, gesturing and pointing down the block. “He says there's a mental institution near here,” Sam translated. “He thinks he's seen this guy sitting in their garden – he might be a patient,” Sam explained.

“Pudding pudding pudding!” announced the blond man.

“You speak Pudding too, Sammy?”

Sam spoke to the owner again. “He says he can see the guy back, if that's OK?” 

Dean nodded. “Sure, dude. We ain't cops. We're just looking for information.” Sam relayed this to Mr. Mejia, who looked awfully relieved. “He have any idea why they were looking for this Novak dude?”

Mr. Mejia shook his head, which needed no translation.

After Dean and Sam told him he could go, Mr. Mejia linked arms with the pudding man, and spoke to him softly in Spanish.

_“Muchos garacias, senor!”_ the pudding man said, in a perfect Castillian accent. Together, they exited the shop.

Dean popped Cas back in his jacket. He wrinkled his nose. “Whoa, dude, you smell like rotten eggs! Too much demon wrestling. We need to get someone a kitty bath when we get back to the motel.”

Sam huffed. “A kitty bath? Dean, seriously?”

 

It was humiliating!

Cas sat in the pink motel room sink, looking like a drowned rat, glaring at Dean.

“C'mon, Patch, we gotta get that demon stink off!” Dean chuckled, pouring a bit of water over Cas's head. “You'll be fine, buddy. Water never killed anybody. Now, you sit there, an lemme get a towel.”

“Patch,” thought Cas. He turned to regard himself in the large bathroom mirror. Staring back at him was a sopping wet black cat with striking blue eyes and a funny tuft of white fur on his forehead. He leaned forward towards the mirror, squinting to get a better glance. It did look like - what had Sam said? - a sigil of some kind. Cas should have remembered it. Wait, it would be backwards in the mirror-?

“Here we go!” said Dean, suddenly seizing Cas inside a large fluffy towel. 

Cas yowled in protest. 

“Hey, you don't like bein' wet, but you don't like dryin' off either?” chuckled Dean, who was toting Cas back into the main room while rubbing his fur with a towel. Cas gave a growl and launched himself onto the bed, where he did his best to straighten out his hopelessly matted fur.

Sam was staring at his laptop. “You find anything on this Novak guy?” Dean inquired.

“Yeah, while you were launching your new feline grooming business, I was doing actual research.” 

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Dean leaned over and peered at Sam's screen. Cas craned his neck at them. _Brothers?_ Why hadn't it occurred to him before? Dean and his brother, Sam.

_Dean Winchester_ and his brother Sam. 

“...doesn't seem to be anything, Dean. He's a perfect, church-going guy, far as I can tell. I have a couple other sources I can run down, but so far I'm stumped.”

Dean stretched out his arms and yawned. “If you don't mind, I'm gonna catch forty winks while you geek out. I didn't get any sleep last night.”

“Yeah, of course,” muttered Sam, who went back to moodily hitting buttons on his computer. 

Dean kicked off his shoes and then flopped down on the bed next to Cas. “You still hate me, kitty cat?” He put out a hand and ruffed Cas's fur. “Aw, you can't stay mad at me. You know it!” Dean lay back on the pillow, and within a minute or two was snoring away. 

Cas glared at Dean, but then climbed up on his chest and curled up right over his heart, where he could listen to that lovely, soothing heartbeat.

Sam stretched and got up and wandered over by the bed. He chuckled, and reached out a hand towards Cas, who wondered if he was going to get chucked off his perch. To his surprise, Sam gently petted his head. “Yeah, _I_ can't stay mad at him either.” He sniffed at his hand. “You know, kitty, you smell like hand soap.” He headed for the bathroom, and Cas dropped off asleep.

 

“...tell you Sammy, it will work.” Cas blinked awake. He was still lying on the bed, but he was alone there now. Dean was donning a tie and Sam was polishing up a pair of dress shoes.

“You really think they'll buy it?” asked Sam. “It's an old trick.”

“Old tricks are old tricks because they work,” Dean declared, picking up a blazer. “I'll tell 'em it's radiation. If this Jimmy person values his balls, he'll get the hell outta the house.” 

Sam didn't reply, but shook his head, and grabbed his own suit jacket. 

“Look, you're getting nowhere with your research, you admitted it. Maybe if we meet him, we can get more info. At worst, we'll get them away from where the demons are looking, and maybe we can snoop around.”

Sam shrugged his broad shoulders. “Give it a try, I guess. Hey, you got help, Dean.” Cas had leapt onto Dean's shoulders and was trying to figure out how to tuck himself into Dean's suit jacket.

“Naw, pal, you're staying here,” said Dean, who gently grabbed Cas and deposited him back on the bed. “Health Department inspectors don't have kitty cats!”

Cas yowled.

“Yeah, I know, pal. But you're staying here. Sit!”

“Dean, you can't teach cat's to sit.”

“Sure you can!” bragged Dean, as Cas leaped once again onto his shoulders. Dean frowned. “C'mon dude, cat hair!” he said as he pulled him off once again. “I'll bring you some catnip. And some yarn or something.”

Cas yowled again, but Dean and Sam soon slipped out the door, slamming it shut. Cas leapt at the door, but couldn't get near the doorknob. He sat down, annoyed and frustrated. 

To his surprise, after only a few minutes, the door popped open once again. He tried running for it, but was blocked by a rather large cart full of cleaning equipment being pushed inside. He looked up and froze.

It was the same dark-skinned woman he'd seen in the cemetery with Buddy. And later at the restaurant. “Hello there, Cas!” she said brightly. She waved a hand at the door, which shut on its own, and hopped up to sit on the bed. “I fear I don't have much time, so we need to talk quickly.”

“But I can't talk to you,” Cas grumbled, hopping up to sit beside her.

“Of course you can.”

“I thought humans couldn't hear cats!”

“I can hear cats. But you are not a cat. As I am not a human.”

Cas put a beseeching paw on her leg. “What am I?”

“You are Castiel, Angel of the Lord.” 

Cas gasped, letting the enormity of it sink in. “And how did I-”

The girl stared at her feet, clinking her heels together. “It's a long story, one I don't have time to fully relate. You rescued Dean Winchester from Hell. Word is, you were all too efficient at your job. There were those in Heaven who were displeased.”

“They didn't want a good man retrieved from Hell?”

“Mm. Not as quickly as you did it. Just two weeks after he was taken? Not enough time for some. As I told you, it's a long story, and we haven't time. What's important is that you were here in this city seeking a human vessel, that you could speak to Dean. But someone in Heaven has unleashed a rather powerful spell. It locked up the gates of heaven, and paralyzed your wings. You were forced to seek a vessel very quickly, before you could finish receiving an assent from your chosen vessel.”

“Jimmy Novak,” said Cas. Because somehow, he'd known it all along.

“That is how I became involved. I generally stay out of Heavenly politics. But this vessel you are currently using was not meant to contain your essence. It is wearing out – that is why you have been so weak. You must leave, or destroy this brave creature.”

Cas leapt off the bed and climbed up onto the small table where Sam had been working. He peered into Sam's laptop screen. There were images of Jimmy Novak there. “This man – he has a family. He has a child. I know what service as a vessel does to a man.”

“Then it is your choice, Castiel,” said the woman.

“But how could I persuade him to be my vessel, if that is my choice? I have no voice!”

She smiled. “You managed to communicate with Dean Winchester.”

“Dean Winchester is … different.” He stared at the computer again, and then turned to her. “Could you help me?”

“Alas, I am not allowed to intervene in these matters. You know that.”

Cas climbed down from the chair to sit at her feet. “Who are you?” He recalled he had first met her in a graveyard. “Are you – are you a reaper?”

“You are a clever little cat, aren't you?” she asked with a smile. “You may call me Nef. By the way, do you know you smell of hand soap?”

Cas sighed. “Dean gave me a bath,” he sulked.

She laughed, and it was glorious. She waved a hand at him, and Cas began to smell of fragrant spices. “Oh, thank you! This is much better,” he said.

“Now, I must away,” she told him. “Oh, I almost forgot” Nef waved a hand, and the room straightened up, as if a maid had attended to it.

Cas heard a very familiar car engine outside. Nef apparently heard it too. “They're early,” she said. “I need to go.” She climbed into the cart and then, to Cas's amazement, the entire cart folded up upon itself, and slid out of sight, underneath the bed. Cas followed it, hiding out under the bed.

Dean was first in, dashing across the room and yanking a bag out from under the other bed. “Where's those hex bags?”

“Probably where you left them,” said Sam, right behind him, tie askew, out of breath. He, too, started digging in a bag for supplies.

“We gotta make this fast, Sammy.”

“Why did you let him go off alone, Dean?”

“Jimmy?” Cas's fur stood on end. “You heard him! He wanted to go get his wife and daughter. And nothing was gonna stop him.”

“I didn't think he'd go for it – getting out of town.”

“Well, I guess running into a _real live demon_ in his house convinced him!” 

_Jimmy!_ They were going to meet Jimmy. Cas was determined to go along with them. But he would have to find some way to sneak into the car, since Dean wasn't letting him go along. 

He crept towards the doorway, which the brothers had left ajar in their rush. He peeked outside, but recoiled when he saw the man lurking outside in the parking lot, keeping watch on their room. It was an evil man – one of them! Cas peered back into the room, cursing the fact that he had no voice. They needed a warning! 

Cas started as something bumped into him – it was Nef's housekeeper's cart, which was now rolling, slowly and quietly, by itself. He saw no hint of Nef, however. He glanced back at Sam and Dean, who were both tearing through bags. Neither one was looking his way. He took a run, and leapt into the cart. 

The cart drifted silently outside, rolling out the door, and abutting the black car. Cas stood up inside the cart and peeked out. The demon was still hanging around outside, but he was still watching the door, not the housekeeping cart. Cas leapt out of the cart and slipped underneath the car. He needed to get inside before Sam and Dean caught wise – he could still hear their voices from the room. 

Cas heard a click up above his head. He crept over to where the noise had come from – the back door of the car had just popped open. Quickly as he could, he slipped inside, and the door, as if it had a will of its own, shut behind him.

Cas climbed up to the back seat and peered out. He was shocked to see none other than Buddy the calico sitting on the trunk of the car. 

“Buddy!”

Buddy scowled and motioned for Cas to hide. Just before he ducked down, Cas saw Sam and Dean come running out of the room. He jumped inside the sports bag that was sitting open on the floor beneath the seat.

The back doors both opened and the men threw a number of objects, large and small, into the back seat. As Cas cringed inside the sports bag, the doors slammed, the engine revved, and the car lurched back and then accelerated out of the parking lot at a great clip. The bag, with Cas inside it, was thrown around as the large car skidded around the corner. 

“Hey, does it smell funny in here to you?” asked Dean.

“Funny? Like funny, haha?”

“Comedian. No, I mean, it smells nice in here. It smells like … Egypt!”

Cas froze. He realized he still smelled of Nef's spices. 

Sam looked around and sniffed. “Yeah, now that you mention it. He turned around towards the rear of the car, where Cas was hidden. But Sam suddenly turned back to Dean. “We're being followed.”

Dean glanced up in the rear view mirror. “Yep.”

“Think you can lose 'em?”

“Watch me.” The car lurched again, and Cas was thrown around like a little top, this way and that way as the car sped and slowed, cornered and accelerated again. When at long last the car came to a halt and the brothers jumped out, Cas lay, dazed, on the floor inside his bag. The doors once again slammmed shut and he woke with a start. He scrambled up to the back seat just in time to see Sam and Dean disappearing into a large, abandoned warehouse. He tried to follow, but found all of the doors were shut tight. He growled, cursing his small, frail vessel, but much as he tried nudging and grabbing and tearing at the door handles, he just wasn't big enough to move them.

He heard the rumble of another car approaching. He stood up to glance out the window. It was the bad men! One car, and then another and another stoppeed right behind Sam and Dean's car. As he watched, horrified, the demons got out and all swarmed towards the buildings.

Cas stood up in the back window and cried out. “Buddy! Are you here? I need you!” But he looked around in vain. 

“Nef! Can you help me?” But no one answered.

He dropped back down to the back seat, tired and desperate. So close, but yet so far. 

Cas thought about what Nef had told him, that he was an Angel of the Lord. He tried to remember. His mind drifted back to the vision he had had, back in the cemetery, of being large, and winged. 

Suddenly it occurred to him – if Nef was right, and he once was powerful, perhaps he could fly out of the car? It seemed that was the way he used to get from place to place. He wasn't quite sure how, but he was somehow certain he could do it. He hopped back up to the back window and stared very intently at the building, imagining himself outside, free of the car.

He imagined he spread out two magnificent black-feathered wings.

He thought of flapping the wings, of flying, through the air, out of the car, onto the pathway. He thought, and thought, and thought some more....

_Slam!_

He fell, right on his face.

Sad and exhausted from the effort, he picked himself up, looking around.

Which was when he realized he'd made it out of the car!

Cas whooped in triumph, and then made for the building, where he sensed the brothers had gone. It was large and foreboding, but he knew in his very heart where to find them. He ran down a hallway, took a turn, and then down a large corridor. He heard voices! He kept running, and went through a doorway into a very large room, just as Sam and Dean hurried out.

They left another man lying on the floor.

He was lying in a pool of blood, because he was grievously wounded.

Cas's heart tightened, and he ran over to the dying man. 

It was, of course, Jimmy Novak.

Jimmy didn't see him at first. He was lying on his side, curled up in pain, clutching his stomach. Cas ran up to him, in anguish. _If I was in the form of a man, _he thought ruefully, _I would have the magic to cure him_. But now, he could only watch, silent as a stone. “Jimmy Novak, I must stand here, helpless, and watch you die,” he thought.__

__“Castiel?”_ _

__Cas sat back, blinking, unbelieving. Jimmy's eyes had snapped wide open, and he was staring at Cas. “Can you hear me, Jimmy?”_ _

__“You're Castiel, right?” asked Jimmy, his voice soft and labored._ _

__“Yes! I am Castiel.”_ _

__Jimmy, even in his pain, emitted a small, sad laugh. “You're not what I expected.”_ _

__“You know me?”_ _

__“You talked to me, right? You're the angel who's been talking to me. But you're too late. Too late....”_ _

__“I wish I could help you.”_ _

__“Castiel. Castiel!” Jimmy appeared to falter._ _

__Cas drew nearer. “Yes, Jimmy?”_ _

__“My wife. My daughter! Can you help them? Please, Castiel? It's all I ask.”_ _

__Cas sat and thought. “Jimmy. You are dying. I cannot stop it.”_ _

__“But Amelia. Claire. Please! Those … those demons are after them now!”_ _

__Cas steeled himself. “If you help me now, Jimmy Novak, I swear on the Lord, my Father, that I will protect Amelia and Claire, to my last breath.”_ _

__Jimmy stared. The light was already fading from his eyes. “You'll protect them?” he whispered._ _

__“Yes.”_ _

__“Then … yes.”_ _

__The world changed._ _

__Wings spread out, wide and wonderful as the universe, feathers made of swirling galaxies, infinite and timeless._ _

__It was so good – so good – to be free of the confined little space._ _

__But Castiel didn't have time to be distracted._ _

__He turned around, soaring back._ _

__Formed to the shape of a man._ _

__Castiel, Angel of the Lord, messenger, Seraph, burning one, stepped into the body of a man._ _

__Carefully, he folded himself into his vessel, quietly and carefully knitting together the grievous wounds._ _

__At last, he stood in readiness._ _

__He paused, gazing at the spirit of Jimmy Novak, now standing arm in arm with Nef. The little black cat was perched on her shoulder. “I'll get everybody to where they're going,” she told him._ _

__“Thank you, Jimmy,” said Cas._ _

__Jimmy nodded, though he looked confused. “My... My family?”_ _

__“I will protect them. I swear to you. Go in peace, to the fields of my Father. And thank you, blessed among creatures,” Cas told the little cat. He stepped forward to give it a tiny pet on the head. “Oh, that's my name,” he said, tracing a finger over the symbol on the little cat's head. “Enochian.”_ _

__Nef shifted, and something over her arm rattled. Cas suddenly noticed she had a quiver strapped to her back. “Wait. I thought you told me you were a reaper. Are you … a cupid?”_ _

__“I don't recall telling you I was a reaper,” Nef said with a smile. And then she blew a kiss, and disappeared._ _

__Castiel had no time to digest this. He was needed elsewhere._ _

__He spread his wings. He flew._ _

__He landed in yet another large room._ _

__He recognized Amelia and Claire immediately – their faces had been etched in Jimmy's mind as he lay dying. The Winchesters were there as well. They fought bravely, though they were severely outnumbered._ _

__But they no longer fought alone._ _

__Cas slapped his hand down on the head of the closest demon, burning him to ashes with the strength of holy fire. The demon collapsed to the ground, and then Cas grabbed two more, who had stupidly run his way, smiting the evil out of them. He threw the bodies to the ground and fought on. One crept up behind him, and was slammed against the wall. Another put a blade into his vessel's chest. Cas plucked out the knife, threw it away, and burned him too._ _

__And when one cowardly demon tried to smoke out, Cas caught him, forcing the dark smoke back into this body with his bare hands, and then smiting the life out of him._ _

__In the end, in the quiet aftermath, he looked around at what he had wrought, and he was pleased._ _

__He turned – motion at the corner of his eye._ _

__It was not a demon. It was the little one, Claire, running towards him. She held tight to a small, raggedy stuffed toy. She ran right up to him, and then suddenly halted._ _

__“You – you're not daddy,” she whispered, her eyes gone wide._ _

__She was so small. So frail. A tiny miracle._ _

__Cas crouched down, so he would not seem so large before her. He tried to keep his voice soft, so as not to frighten her. “No, I am not. Your father was sore afraid for you. He sent me, his servant, to protect you. I will guard you. Always. This is my promise to you, Claire Novak.”_ _

__He saw her eyes go misty. He thought about small creatures, of being held close in Dean's warm jacket, next to his heart. Slowly, awkwardly, he wrapped clumsy arms around her. The girl threw herself against him, holding him tight as could be. Close to his beating heart. For a moment he held her, smoothing her hair._ _

__“Claire.” It was the girl's mother. Cas looked up at her, her expression a mask of pain and fear. _She is looking down on the face of her dead husband,_ Cas reminded himself. Reluctantly, he released his arms, and allowed Amelia to pull little Claire away from him. _ _

__Dean and Sam were near. “Patch,” said Dean, his eyes wide. “You're- You're Patch, aren't you?”_ _

__“Wait - what?” said Sam._ _

__Cas bowed formally. “Dean and Sam Winchester. I am Castiel. Yes, until recently, I was forced to occupy a somewhat different vessel.”_ _

__“A vessle? So you're....” inquired Sam. “What are you?”_ _

__“An Angel of the Lord.”_ _

__The brothers exchanged a look. “Heavy shit,” Dean told Sam. “Oh, uh, sorry Mr. Angel. Potty mouth.”_ _

__“Castiel.”_ _

__“OK,” said Sam. “We obviously need to talk. But we should get Amelia and Claire out of here first. I mean, before more of those guys show up. You said you were headed to your sister's house?”_ _

__Amelia nodded, teary eyed, holding Claire close to her._ _

__“You got the hex bags?” Dean asked._ _

__Sam nodded, and began to escort the women out of the room._ _

__“Wait,” said Cas. Two pairs of anxious eyes stared at him. Cas hovered a tentative hand over Amelia. “I can give them markings so no demons can find them.”_ _

__“Do it!” said Dean._ _

__But Cas looked at Amelia, a question in his eyes. She gritted her teeth, but nodded. He touched a hand to her head, and then to Claire's._ _

__“Do Grumpy too!” urged Claire, holding up her raggedy stuffed toy. Cas edge a small smile, and complied._ _

__“Let's go,” said Sam. “We'll put the hex bags in your car.” The women followed him out of the room._ _

__Dean and Cas stayed behind. They were quiet for a long moment._ _

__“So, you been watchin' over us, since the cemetery?”_ _

__“Before that. I raised you from Perdition, Dean.”_ _

__To his surprise, Dean bristled. “But, you claim you're an angel?”_ _

__“Yes, I am an angel. It also appears that I am in danger. Apparently there are some who did not want me to rescue you.”_ _

__But Dean was still lost in disbelief. “Why the hell would an angel rescue me? I- I'm not what you think, Cas.”_ _

__Cas stared at Dean. This was incredible! Dean Winchester didn't believe he deserved to be saved. He stepped forward, extended a hand, and traced it down Dean's cheek. “Your soul was the brightest I had ever seen. Even in the depths of Hell, it shown brighter than a star gone nova. You are a miracle, Dean.” Reluctantly, he let his hand drop from Dean's face. But to his surprise, Dean edged closer._ _

__Dean whispered his name, and it was like a blessing. After spending so long frustrated by his small, weak vessel, Cas suddenly wanted to shrink down again, and to lie close to Dean's heart. The distance between them melted to nothing, and suddenly, they were kissing, so soft and sweet, and Cas wanted to be here forever, to spread out his wings and hold Dean so very close to him._ _

__He forced himself to stop, to pull away and it was nearly unbearable. “Dean,” said Cas, the words rushing out. “We- We may be under the influence of a cupid.”_ _

__“Oh. Seems like a good influence, huh?” Dean's face broke into a wide grin, like the sun bursting through on a cloudy day._ _

__“Ahem!” Dean and Cas turned towards the voice. Sam was standing near, and was acting like he had been standing there for some time._ _

__“You think your day was weird, Sammy?” asked Dean. “I'm making out with a cat!” He blinked and looked around. “Hey, where the hell is my cat? Where's Patch?”_ _


	3. Chapter 3

_Postscript_

 

The goddess smiled and splashed her feet in the rippling stream that ran alongside the bank. Off to the side, a small black cat played joyfully with her broad, hawk-like wings.

A man appeared on the bank. He did not walk up, rather he quite literally appeared.

His eyes were the color of sunshine through a glass of whiskey.

“You're not a cupid!” he declared, sitting down beside her.

“And you're no cat,” she retorted. “Nor are you a Trickster, for that matter.”

He sighed and began to tug off his shoes. 

“I saw what was between them,” she continued. “It was lovely.”

“It was weird.”

“So pure! They simply needed a small nudge.”

“Anyway, thanks a million, Nef. I owe ya one.”

“You owe me several, Gabriel.”

“You get Jimmy settled?”

“Yes. It's one benefit of being Goddess of the Underworld, I have a back door to Heaven.”

“Cool. And what about this guy?” he asked, pointing to the cat.

“His proper name is Casper.”

“Oh, like the friendly ghost!”

“He may remain with me. He would make an honorable addition to my court. Do you disagree?”

Gabriel splashed his toes in the stream. “Well, I was thinking. There's this guy, Bobby Singer...”

“Oh, Bobby!” laughed Nephthys.

“Wait, you know him?”

The goddess smiled. “He summoned me once. I pretended to be a water nymph, and he pretended to believe me. We played cards. He is a fine gentleman. Old fashioned that way.”

“Well,” said Gabriel, petting the cat, “I was thinking of getting Patch – or Casper, or whatever he likes – over to Bobby.”

“He would likely recognize you.”

Gabriel sighed. “That's the thing. Stuff is heating up. All over. I might get my cover blown anyway. And....”

“Don't tell me you are loyal to your brother?”

“Hey, Cassie is a good egg! A little naïve. But he means well.”

“We should let Casper decide his fate,” said Nephthys. 

The little cat looked at one immortal being, and then the other.

“It's up to you, chum,” said Gabriel. “If you stay with her, there's good food, and lots of mice to catch. Come with me, things might get hairy. But it'll never be boring!”

The little cat stepped into Gabriel's lap.

“We have our answer,” said the goddess, reaching over to touch the little cat's head in a blessing. “Go in peace.”

“Hey, could I get some of that mojo?”

“You are an archangel, dear.”

“I could use all the help I can get.”

She laughed – it was glorious. And then pressed her hand to Gabriel's head.

He grabbed his shoes and stood up, the little cat perched on his shoulder. “See ya, gorgeous!” he said. 

There was the sound of wingbeats.

And then Lady Nephthys of the Ennead of the Heliopolis, Excellent Goddess, Lord of the Underworld, was alone again, playing in the stream.


End file.
